Liability
by My Vantilene
Summary: They had reached a decision, one that would hopefully ensure Jack's safety. He wasn't to leave the North Pole.
1. Chapter 1

Jack never agreed to the arrangement, but that hardly mattered in the long run. They would've gotten him back to Santoff Claussen with or without his consent and like the traitor he discovered the wind was, it let them. He had tried to run, but without the wind's help his ostentatious leap for the skies didn't take him any further than where he had left off. The wind let him down gently, the winter spirit had drifted downward in a descent similar to that of the snowflakes he controlled. They cornered him, and outnumbered one to five thanks to the wind's betrayal, there was no way he could take them all.

But that didn't stop him for trying. Jackson Overland Frost never backed down from a challenge. He didn't fight back forcedly, though, quite the contrary actually, he resisted without laying a single hand on any of them. North would grab at him and he would sidestep the corpulent man with a laugh. Of course he was irritated by the direct confrontation, especially since he had just left Santoff Claussen the other day, but one of the first things he learned while haunting the earth was to laugh at life. Finding fun in the face of adversity helped him through the lone nights, and it helped in this case too. (There was a time when the serious eclipsed the fun, but he tried to push that thought down under the surface.)

Tooth flitted toward him, but he jumped into one of the trees, despite the wind's attempt to keep him down. Bunny came gunning for him next, and this time Jack was especially careful to dodge the pooka's attacks. While the others wanted to take him safely (even if by force) back to Santoff Claussen, Bunny wouldn't even think twice about knocking the kid out.

He laughed as he tried desperately to scramble up the tree. Mid-snicker, he was grabbed by his foot and thrown into the air, the wind's hand a strong vice grip on his pale ankle as it slammed him into a snow bank. The last thing his conscious mind could detect was the glittering gold of Sandman's dream sand being blown into his eyes.

* * *

"I don't know, the kid has held his own with Pitch before."

"Does that mean we do not help him? Jack is family now, no? And you know how he is…"

Bunny snorted, "All too well…"

"You think this is the best solution?"

"I can think of nothing else."

"Pitch _has_ had time to plan against Jack. He didn't have that before. As much as it pains me to say, North might be right just this once, we can't let him have that kind of an advantage."

She sighed, "I suppose so, but he's not going to take it very —"

"Mates, shut up, he's wakin' up."

Sandy gave a triumphant huff, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms. They all looked at him with annoyance and he just gave an inaudible laugh. There are always consequences for ignoring the guardian of dreams. Jack internally laughed at that, because he naturally found almost everything amusing, but he had to keep up the annoyed veneer, and maybe make them feel the least bit bad about ambushing him with no explanation.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, wiping the sand from his eyes and trying to fight against the drowsiness. His greatest weapon was the weight of the situation, "Now, what did I do this time?"

His gaze fell on the yetis, and realization struck him.

"Is this about Phil?"

North narrowed his eyes.

"What about Phil?"

"Uh…Nothing, nothing… Weren't you going to tell me what terrible thing I've done to get you all together again? I'll save us all the trouble and not take any more guesses. "

"After you left Santoff Claussen, we found a…um, что слово?"

"Message." Bunny supplied.

"Yes, we found a message," his eyes narrowed again as he said gently, "From Pitch."

"Does he need another fight to put him in his place?" he jumped onto the balls of his feet, "Why didn't you say so? I know where his layer-hideout-thing is."

"No, Jack."

"Oh," he looked at Father Christmas, confused, "Well what exactly did this _message_ say?"

"It…" his bright eyes flitted to Tooth for a moment, "That's…classified."

His shoulders slumped.

"…Classified." Jack repeated, disbelieving.

"Are you serious? I know I'm not the most experienced guardian, but you can't just —"

"Jack," Tooth pleaded, "You just have to trust us on this one."

He raked his spidery, thin fingers through his ghost-white hair,

"Well, if you don't want me to fight him, and you can't even tell me what he said, why did you go through so much trouble to get me?"

"We wouldn't have had to if you had come when we sent out the alarm."

"I thought those were just for real members."

They all just looked at him.

"That… was stupid."

"You got that right." Bunny grinned sardonically.

Tooth elbowed him.

"Hey!"

"Deserved." Jack snickered momentarily, before remembering that he had to be mad at them for keeping him in the dark, no — he _was_ legitimately angered by his own ignorance on the matter; sometimes he just got caught up in the fun.

"So, hey what do you guys want me for again?"

They all shared a side glance.

"We need you… to stay here, with North." Toothiana finally confessed. Sandy made a miniature jail cell above his head and the guardian of memories elbowed him as well.

"You're kidding me. You've got to be…" he trailed off. The looks in all of their eyes, the expressions varying from austerity to sympathy, stopped his words in their tracks.

"It is what's best for everyone, trust us."

"Trust you? When you guys won't trust me? I have a right to know."

North gave a heavy sigh.

"Pitch is…_planning_ something."

"And I'm guessing you have some idea as to what that is, but you're not going to tell me."

"We're not the enemy here, Jack." Tooth tried.

"I know, I know, but what is having me cooped up in here going to help?"

"We need you here."

His eyes flashed with white, hot anger.

"Why? So you can keep an eye on me? You're scared I'm going to mess something up." It wasn't even a question anymore, it was an accusation he already knew was spot-on.

"No, Jack, of course not, we know you're more than capable of handling Pitch…"

Her tone wasn't very reassuring.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it." He gave in. He knew they were lying to him, and it did hurt a bit, but he knew a fruitless situation when he saw one. Things would be a lot easier if he just went along with their plan.

"I'll stay."

For now.

After all, there was a game to be played here.

* * *

_This story was originally part of my drabble collection, but I split that in to three separate stories, because it wasn't even supposed to be a drabble series in the first place and it was really hard keeping track of everything. I hope this is easier because I'm really tired of moving all this stuff. _


	2. Chapter 2

He spent the first day of his imprisonment in North's personal workshop. Not because he wanted to, of course, but because Phil had said something in yetish under his breath, and the burly Russian had been in complete agreement. If it was up to him, he'd be checking out new age toys and exploring the echoing complex, a venture he'd never been able to embark on since his first entrance in with the big man's permission, but it was becoming increasingly clear with each second that trickled by, it didn't matter what he wanted, his "fellow" guardians couldn't be moved on any matter.

It was fun at first, watching North work. The man could carve just about anything, and he did it using a _chainsaw._ The power he put onto each swipe, the hard-hitting angles, and the sparks and ice that flew like fiery confetti out of a wood chipper, it all filled Jack with the wonder North had been sworn to protect. He made a game out of trying to guess what it was he was trying to create from the glistening blocks of ice. With each layer sawed off, it's death heralded by the throaty, metallic cry of the chainsaw, Jack's assumptions were either dashed or given hope. He sat on the wooden seat of the window sill, his legs, crossed at the ankle, swinging back and forth with palpable anticipation. One moment he swears the figure's a bear, and the next he's certain it's a Christmas tree, and his face lights up when the latter turns out to be right.

But soon his body grows restless. His legs ache with the need to bolt, his knees beg to move, his arms long to pump and thrust through the air like propellers, he pines to feel the cool wind press against his face. He swings his legs nervously to try to dispel the extra energy, but he radiates the stuff day and night normally, and there's no way such a trivial exercise is going to change that.

He has been nearing the need to sleep these past few weeks, but he doesn't know how long it'll take to fall asleep. He hopes it's soon because he's beginning to feel warmer. It starts inside his stomach, a molten molasses brewing just beneath the surface. It spreads slowly, painfully so, and creeps up his shoulders like a lethargic snake taking it's sweet time. It curls itself around his neck, shifting back and forth as if trying to get comfortable around his throat. He tries to swallow, but his saliva comes back burning and scalds his tongue. He gives a yelp of pain, breaking North's concentration. His hand slips, causing the chainsaw to cut through the crystalline Christmas tree and get its revolving teeth stuck in the table. He quickly shuts the machine off, but the damage has already been done. Nicholas rubs his ruddy face gruffly before looking to Jack. The guardian of fun is a bit surprised at the older legend's eyes. There was no annoyance or blame (which he was all too familiar with). Instead there was concern etched into his icy blue eyes.

"Is everything alright?"

The heat reached the tip of his ears, steaming like an irritated Sandman. His eyes watered without his consent, but he was used to things happening without his consent, so it didn't come as a blow. It stung deeply and he blinked as if someone had thrown live cinders into his eyes.

"Yeah," he managed, despite the sudden dryness of his throat, and the inner well of energy threatening to overflow, "Yeah, peachy."

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

The bearded man gave him a wary glance before putting the chainsaw away and sitting next to him.

"Jack, I know it is not easy, but there is no need to make it harder than needs to be. Is summer months now and, just between you and me, we all slack off this time a year. If there is anything you need, you shouldn't hesitate to ask. Don't let Sandy get to you, this is not supposed to be prison." Jack tried to smile affirmatively, but his blood was starting to churn at inhuman speeds, and it felt like it would evaporate through his papery skin. The heat was a rash that spread through his skin with cat-like agility, and it prickled at his skin like tiny, smoldering mosquito bites. He felt as if he would vomit fire at any moment; he could feel the lava rise as bile in his throat.

"I… I need to move, to run and to be some place…" he panted, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "…Cooler…"

North scratched at his beard and nodded in a way that jostled his whole being.

"Come."

He opened the door from his workshop and began to walk around the globe room. Jack had to fight the urge to dart out the window, and fought his own joints, which were pleased with the movement, but still not completely satisfied. He missed the wind, betrayal and all, more than he could've ever imagined. What he wouldn't give to be surrounded by the sweet, melodious howls of the ever-moving wind, to be wrapped up in its current, and savor its embrace. He gave a wistful sigh that wasn't lost on his jolly companion. They took the elevator down and the downward breeze only succeeded in taunting him, similar to how a bread crumb taunts a starving man, and North knew that tune all too well.

He started to miss the beautiful, frozen wallpaper of the workshop, but finally his guide through the endless, wooden catacombs opened a door that brought the two of them to an underground ice-excavation site. Jack lit up like a Christmas tree, and he wasted no time jumping down onto the cool, glistening structure. He gave a hysterical laugh as he pressed his head against the rejuvenating ice and felt the cold rush past his skin, chilling his bones in the most delightful way. He made snow angels, despite it being solid, and relished in the overwhelming relief that flooded him. North gave a small laugh himself at the boy's antics.

"Now, Jack, for my sculptures I normally need to cut this ice myself, but…do you think you can do it?" he asked, smiling knowingly.

"Piece of cake." He assured, sizing up the cavernous room.

It was a huge room carved out of ice, but with no intricacy to it. There was so much potential there, though, radiating off of it like a cold life force, Jack could feel it in the way his fingers curled around his staff in jubilant anticipation. He could change the unmolded ice into a terrain of his own making, with maze-like tunnels, artist lofts, slides, stairs, swings, and little nooks and crannies to hide in. It would single-handedly be the best snowball fight battleground the world has ever seen.

Not that the world would actually get to see it.

"Good, that's what I want to hear, but, um…first, there are ground rules."

Jack pried his eyes off of his beautifully untainted canvas to look back at North.

Oh, no wonder there were ground rules, Phil was right next to him, muttering things in yetish.

"Yeah?"

"No getting out of control, okay? And no pranks, or harming of the yetis."

"Say," Jack drawled, stepping closer to Phil, "What would happen if I did harm a yeti?"

"Vwalater."

"Um, yes... Phil is right. I would have to confiscate your staff."

Something akin to fear lanced through his eyes and he hugged the shepherd's hook close to his chest.

"You wouldn't."

Phil spat angrily in his native tongue, pushing Jack by the shoulders with both hands.

"Okay, okay, _you_ would." He sidestepped the yeti's accusing emerald glare, instead choosing to appeal to the big man himself, "North?"

"I'll… have to side with Phil on this one. But the same goes for him too. Phil, no harming Jack. He is honored guest here."

Phil's shoulders slumped and Jack rolled his back, adjusting the collar of his sweatshirt with an air of mock aristocracy.

"I will be back within a few hours for more ice, do not let me down."

Jack did a mock salute as the door closed behind him.

Hundreds of tiny skylights adorned the half of the ceiling that supported Santoff Claussen with wooden boards. Some were drilled into the top parts of the ice he was getting to harvesting, but the rest of the ceiling and the east wall was composed of the remaining ice and it had a slight curvature that made it seem more like a bowl and less like a wall.

Jack beamed, feeling his blood course through him faster and faster, but it wasn't hot or uncomfortable. It was the use of that adrenaline that he had craved all day.

He got to work gathering the frozen blocks, finding just the right spot and just the right angle to part the ice, the same technique he saw North use up in the main workshop. The wind entered through the skylights in little drops, tiny little bursts, and formed a breeze at his feet. He hopped on, not feeling the least bit deterred by its past infidelity, and gave a long, loud whoop that echoed through the excavation site with great clarity. He was moving, finally moving, at speeds not even North's sleigh could match, and it didn't matter if he was on a collision course with the ice, his greatest companion was there to steer him away from danger, and it did, without fail, every time. Jack fancied it their own little interpretation of a trust fall.

When his limbs were done stretching themselves out, and his body didn't crave movement quite so desperately, he got back to the task he was given.

He first carved out raw blocks of ice from the east wall and set them in front of the large, hand-crafted door for pick-up. Once their numbers had reached the hundreds, he figured he could stop with that job. He had taken the ice from strategic places, so all he had to do was round off the edges and add a little personal touches, and his vision would be realized.

* * *

North came in more than just a few hours later. But his failure to be punctual was completely forgotten when the bistre doors parted, and he got a look of what was on the other side.

Jack had really out done himself.

There were tunnels forged through the ice, with a frozen chandelier sculpture hanging every few feet, and though there were many, North could make out some yet-to-be-realized pattern in progress. In the open space that he had already carved out, Jack had made snowmen and women, ice renderings of the four original guardians, Tooth suspended in the air with a skylight illuminating her figure, Sandy afloat in snow clouds, dreamsand flooding from him, North, looping through the sky with his reindeer and sleigh, and Bunny.

Then there was Bunny.

Jack had gotten every single detail of the pooka right, except where his face was supposed to be, he had made a simple angry face, with two circles for eyes, a curved line for a mouth, and two downward slants for eyebrows. North could tell it was done using the winter spirit's fingers, not his ice powers.

Said winter spirit was too busy slaving away on his newest addition to notice him walk in.

"Jack!"

The white-haired boy nearly jumped out his skin.

"North!" he called back, jumping down from the small wind-carpet at his feet, "You scared me."

"Yes, sorry about that. You got a lot of work done, I see."

"Yeah," he agreed, looking back to marvel at his handiwork, "It was a lot of fun."

"I take your word for it. You got a lot of ice hacked out. Think you can help me take it back to workshop?"

He nodded, using the small gust of wind to swoop down and pick up a block of ice. He flew past the door, and bypassed the elevator with his newfound flight. But the wind wasn't as strong as he was used to, and he slipped a bit, going up and coming back down, but he managed. It sure gave North a bit of a heart attack to see it the first time, even if he'd never admit it.

He followed in step behind Jack, taking six or seven blocks at a time with him as he rode the elevator up and down, trying to get as much ice as he could to his workshop.

It could be hours or it could be months Jack would have to be staying with him. On the chance it was hours, North wanted to get as much ice as he could. It was one of his least favorite parts of toy production.

North met Jack up at the workshop, setting the final blocks under his woodworking table. The others just barely fit inside of his walk-in closet, Jack hadn't been able to close the door no matter how many tries he gave it.

"Is that the last of it?" he asked, lying on the large window sill.

His eyes drooped a bit and his voice traveled slower through the air.

"Yes."

North had been working on a finer set of ice figurines with an assortment on miniscule hammers and chisels. He looks from his work station, and back to Jack.

He doesn't tell the boy to leave, but he keeps the door open so he knows he can come and go as he pleases.

He sits back down and starts working from where he left off.

"You know I used to work in coal mines when I was younger. It was good source of money and times were tough. I can still remember… Jack?"

The boy was slumped against the window, knitting frost across the glass in his sleep.

North sighed.

* * *

When Jack woke up, he almost had a heart attack. He had no idea where he was.

It was dark and everything was tinted a deep shade of red, but it didn't take a lot of struggling against the coarse fabric that stuck to his skin to figure it out.

He had woken up inside a sack, on top of one of the guest beds.

* * *

_I just love the idea of North having Jack falling asleep on him, because he knows he has to get him to a proper bed, but he's not too big on manners or proper or even decent etiquette so he moves him the only way he knows how. By stuffing him in a sack. _

_Review, my lovelies.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

Jack stepped out of the sack, and the crimson fabric pooled around his feet. He almost tripped on its folds, but his staff kept him balanced.

The heater was disabled, which Jack thanked the moon for, but the room still had unavoidable insulation, being made out of wood and all.

He opened the door a crack and peeped through the small opening. Two yetis guarded the way out. Jack smirked.

There was a game to be played.

He pressed his hands to its hinges and frost spread to the other side of the hallway, blossoming out of control, forming ice on the floor. The yetis ran off toward the diversion and Jack snuck gracefully out of the guest room. They would be on him any second, he knew whatever they lacked in speed, they attempted to make up for in almost-intelligence. He turned sharply around every corner, running down the long corridors and leaving icicles in his wake. He slicked the floor so that the yetis who came barreling after him slipped down the wrong hallway. He gave a laugh as he turned to look back at them, but then he slipped too, right into the last person he wanted to see.

Phil growled at him, and grabbed his wrist.

"Hey, what are you —"

The rotund beast swung him over his shoulder and began walking toward North's workshop. Jack tried to curl up so he could freeze the yeti's fingers and maybe get away, but Phil jostled him as if he was North's sack. It was impossible to make a get away when his back kept slamming into Phil's.

He opened the door and tossed the winter spirit inside, storming off in a huff.

"Oh, Jack, good, you are up. Did you sleep well?" he looked up from the tablet in his hand, reading glasses sitting far down his nose.

"It's a little stuffy up in the guest rooms…"

"I know, I know. I am working on that."

"Right. Whatcha readin'?"

"Reading?" he snorted, "This is nice list. I'm making sure elves did not edit it."

"You're checking it twice…?"

"Mhmm."

"Gonna find out who's naughty or nice~"

"Yes, I —"

"Santa Clause is coming to town~"

North gave a laugh.

"It's been awhile since I hear Christmas song."

"Wait, you mean there aren't Christmas show tunes playing in the workshop all the time?"

"Sometimes I have Beethoven, but the yetis have their own band."

"W…wha…seriously?"

He nodded.

"They play pretty good electric guitar. The only problem is that they can only play it on sample mode."

Jack snickered.

"Have you readied?" North asked suddenly.

"Readied…?"

"Sorry, are you ready?"

"Um, I guess? For what?"

"Well, thanks to you I'm actually three days ahead of schedule. That hasn't happened in…" he scratched his beard, "That's never happened. I've checked list _five times_."

"Did you find any elf edits?"

"They get more and more unoriginal as the years go by." He answered exasperatedly.

"But, um, where's the long yellowing scroll and the royal ink?"

North raised an eyebrow.

"I put it on kindle. Is easier."

"I see."

"But yes, I am very ahead on work, so…" he patted the empty seat beside him, "We have time for reading lesson."

Jack took the designated seat with a grin. Reading lessons were actually pretty fun, because North was a _wonder_ful teacher.

But he was afraid of his own restless nature, he probably couldn't last as long as North was willing to go for.

Father Christmas detected this fear and nudged his shoulder.

"If you can get through today's lesson without getting too distracted, I'll show you surprise."

"Really? And it's a good surprise right, it's not like, surprise, Jack, you get to help Phil make some toys."

"No, I think you'll like it. I swear to Manny."

"Alright then." He laughed.

They spent the entirety of four hours together, learning and teaching, because any more than that probably would've broke Jack.

But those four hours weren't too terrible. North had made up a couple games and tricks to getting the spelling of things like cat and bat, and any time Jack got that unbearable sensation of his own brain trying to escape his skull, the Russian would let him freeze a couple elves to alleviate the pressure building up there. No one protested, not even the other elves.

North even added some curriculum-enriched lyrics to a couple of Beethoven classics, and Jack loved to sing along with St. Nick's deep, rumbling voice, weaving in his own silky baritone around the higher and lower notes.

It was a lot more social interaction than he was used to, and most times when he visited the guardians it was a bit overwhelming. He was a lot more comfortable talking to people who couldn't hear him, because there was no fear of messing up or saying something dumb. Sometimes he would come up with excuses as to why he couldn't come to a gathering, sometimes it got so bad they had to kidnap him in order for him to show up, which is what he thought their initial confrontation was when he was first dragged to Santoff Claussen. It was strenuous sometimes, trying to uphold their image of him, but here with North… It didn't hurt to talk.

North made it easier with his casual banter, that was never taken as anything unfriendly, the familiarity in his tone, even though Jack was still fairly new. He would make little jabs at Bunny here and there that always got a smile out of the younger legend. It didn't feel like he had to try too hard, he felt at home somehow when he heard North's thick accent, and he can't remember ever talking to someone this freely who could actually reply. The amiable jest as they studied left a great buzz in his head, a wonderful high that made him forget all about the restlessness in his limbs.

North, of course, didn't forget. It was hard to when the kid's knees kept bobbing up and down, and especially hard when it shook the table. Sometimes Jack had to be given reminders to freeze an elf. He just liked reading, and writing, and he liked being here in this semblance of a home. And he was really excited to see what surprise was in store for him, even if he did play it off as nonchalance. When the time finally came for its revelation, North had noticed the bounce to his limbs had gotten worse, his restraint was crumbling just a bit, but other than that, he had hidden his excitement well. Hiding his emotions was a skill he had never needed before, but for the better half of his first year spent as a guardian he perfected and practiced keeping his wall up. Before his thoughts came out his mouth, with no barrier between the two. There wasn't a consequence. But now there was one, a huge one. So he had to seal the terrible, pathetic, weak side of him off, and make sure it was never seen.

North was wary of this as Jack trailed after him for hallways on end, anxious for the surprise promised to him early that same morning.

Jack didn't realize how big Santoff Claussen was until they came upon the fifteenth corridor and was told they were only a quarter of the way there.

"Are you serious? You know, I think you're leading me into some trap like…uh, that one short story you mentioned…"

"Cask of Amontillado?"

"Yeah, that. I don't want to be the wet blanket here, but this is plenty suspicious."

"You think I would trick you?"

"You stuffed me in a sack the first time we met." He skipped over the drunken form of a dazed elf, "In fact you did it again last night."

"Ai." He gave a dismissive wave, "Could not have been avoided."

Jack couldn't say _well, you could've just carried me_ because the more he thought about the situation, the more awkward it got and he decided to just stay quiet, and stopped with his accusations.

The blush on his face did not go unnoticed by the Russian, who laughed heartily at his companion's expense.

But his famously romanticized laugh ended two ho's in, as he stopped abruptly in his tracks. He turned around and dusted some holly from the aging wood, revealing the imprint of a curved threshold.

He pushed open a small door, so small North probably couldn't fit through it if he tried, and his laugh at least got to finish it's swan song.

"Here." He smiled, "I show you surprise."

* * *

_I've got to stop doing this to you guys._


End file.
